


i mean it hand on heart, you held a gun to his head

by avosettas



Series: Swapfell: The Bee Edition [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Swapfell (Undertale), Estrangement, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Past Asgore Dreemurr/Toriel - Freeform, Swapfell Asgore Dreemurr (Undertale), Swapfell Toriel (Undertale), referenced child death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29768097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avosettas/pseuds/avosettas
Summary: Her hands close around his wrists like shackles, the smell of burning flesh and fur punctuated by his gasp of pain. "My children aredead," she growls, tightening her grip until her claws dig into his charred skin. "And it is the fault of those wretched humans who imprisoned us down here!"
Series: Swapfell: The Bee Edition [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2178411
Kudos: 6





	i mean it hand on heart, you held a gun to his head

**Author's Note:**

> title from "a heat rash in the shape of the show me state (or letters from me to charlotte)" by los campesinos! 
> 
> oh, the fight. i think asgore's family is still the ruling family, but when toriel married in, she immediately took control of the underground as ruler. i'm still trying to develop asgore's character tbh, but i think that prior to this fight he was very similar to canon asgore - possibly more aggressive towards toriel, in response to how she treated asriel and frisk OwO

"Toriel, you must consider…" She hardly hears Asgore over the rushing magic through her ears, the sounds of her claws scraping the floor of the Judgement Hall. "Toriel -" 

Finally, she turns. Her husband clearly doesn't expect it, flinching in the face of her anger, the flames licking at her emanating a fierce heat that will burn him if he comes closer. 

But he holds his ground, however scared he seems to face her. "Frisk and Asriel wouldn't want you to hurt anyone for their sakes." 

She laughs, harsh and humorless. "Is that not the _point_ , Asgore?!" Her voice is a hiss, and when she leans closer, he steps back uncertainly. 

Her hands close around his wrists like shackles, the smell of burning flesh and fur punctuated by his gasp of pain. "My children are _dead_ ," she growls, tightening her grip until her claws dig into his charred skin. "And it is the fault of those wretched humans who imprisoned us down here!" 

"Toriel," he gasps, and her flames are controlled, but only enough to stay in one place. Whether or not his forelimbs survive her anger is not her concern. 

"Will you stand against me, Dreemurr?!" She snarls, and the heat of her magic makes his face blur. "Or will you demur to my authority, as you always have?!" 

"Neither," Asgore growls, suddenly wrenching his wrists from her grip. Flesh falls through her claws like ribbons, charring into ashes before it even hits the tiles. His blood never even hits the floor; her flames cauterize his wounds and stop the bleeding before anything can stain the yellow-gold tiles further than the dust of the dead already has. 

He gasps in pain, but still doesn't retreat. "I refuse to harm innocents for children that you _hated_ in the first place." 

" _Hated_?!" She shrieks. "I loved them more than anything else in this wretched cave! Certainly more than I ever loved you!" 

Asgore's laugh surprises her so much that the fire licking up her robes fall to smoke, floating up from the charred tiles around her feet. The smell of singed fur and burnt flesh is suffocating.

"Thank you," Asgore says, though his voice holds no gratitude, "for confirming what I already knew to be true, my soul." 

His words are too surreal for her to muster a reaction. Instead, she stands their like an idiot, claws still hot with the magical fires borne of her rage. 

"I will be going now." He holds his head high as he leaves, and she does not follow. Something drips on the floor as he goes, though her flames should have cauterized his wounds. 

"You are pathetic!" She screams after him, though he hardly reacts. "Crying instead of _acting_! Do not even consider returning to the capital, for all that I will acquiesce to seeing of you is your dust!" 

The soft _plink, plink, plink_ of tears continues, even after he leaves without a word. 

She refuses to raise a hand to her face in order to confirm that it is _she_ who is still crying. After all, her claws still burn with fire, and she'd like to be able to see the fear of the humans when she leads her people in war against them.


End file.
